


ii; The History Between Us

by Theo_Thaur



Series: 31 Days of TUA Whump [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Diego Hargreeves-centric, F/M, Gen, I've never written Eudora before so let's hope that goes over well, Not related but Eudora is a mom friend, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Whump, Whumptober 2020, but only because it fits the vague timeline of pre canon, technically canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theo_Thaur/pseuds/Theo_Thaur
Summary: Whumptober 2020 submission. No 2. "IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY": Pick Who Dies, Kidnapped------Diego picks up a call in the middle of the night, hearing a distressed voice on the other of the line. A distressed voice that sounds a little too much like Eudora's.
Relationships: past Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch - Relationship
Series: 31 Days of TUA Whump [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951234
Kudos: 5
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	ii; The History Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERS: violence, guns, hostage situation, organized crime, choking.

_ii; The History Between Us_

Diego didn't take days off. It wasn't for him, really. Some people liked to travel. Other people liked to read books. If you were Luther, you liked to be over 200,000 miles away from Earth. Point being, everyone made lifestyle choices, some were more conventional than others. Another thing, he didn't work normal hours. Sometimes a tip would come in late at night and he had no choice but to grit his teeth and go. Diego had been kicked out of the police academy, to be sure, but he knew enough about the way things worked; he knew enough to figure out what they were trying to keep hush-hush from the public. If he couldn't get there the typical way, he'd find a new path. There were unfortunate consequences wrapped up in that, but Diego had learnt that hard way that he couldn't get everything perfect, that it was about priorities. He'd made his choice, and not everything would fall into place.

Just as Diego knew that he would find a way to save the city, Eudora knew she didn't want a police academy reject for a boyfriend. For that matter, she probably didn't want a boyfriend that followed her to work every day without even being on payroll. They would've made a good team, and Diego missed watching the way she'd turn over that rabbit's foot in her hand during classroom instruction. She'd always bit the inside of her mouth whenever she was getting chewed out for a mistake, and Diego had always been by her side as soon as he could. It was usually too late by then, a hard look in her eyes as she worked out how to be better for their asswholish academy 'teachers'. Sometimes, that planning worked, and Diego would catch the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk with a well-earned success. Those days in the academy Diego had always expected Eudora to come with him onto the streets, they could've kept each other safe because they knew each other, or at least he'd thought they'd known each other. But Eudora was still trying to take things the slow way, to get some artificial success as determined by a judge rather than _results_. 

He worked well alone, too.

Diego did an awful lot of surveillance, although it wasn't his favorite thing it had to be done when he didn't have the luxury of police tips being funneled in. He took a lot of cases that had been dropped, or ignored altogether, by the police. Diego typically didn't receive money, but he didn't do it for money. He did what he could for his community, boxing and working as a janitor was for money. He expected a lot of dead ends and time wasted, which was pretty usual, therefore bringing in his need for surveillance. The city was expansive, there were all sorts of dark alleys and dead-end bars. Not everyone felt comfortable going to the police for one reason or another, and Diego didn't blame them. So, late night calls were a semi-regular happening.

\------*´｡*ﾟ

He'd been asleep for a few hours before receiving a phone call. Diego had the habit of jolting awake, which was unfortunate in the case of spam calls, but otherwise good. He picked up although not recognizing the number. A rushed, frightened voice lingered on the other side of the line, "you're the vigilante?" Somehow he felt as if he'd heard it before. Diego brushed that away. He gave his number to a lot of people, usually after having a conversation with them. He probably recognized the voice from that.

"Yeah. That's me. Where are you?" Diego replied, slipping on his mask. For being so old, it still fit him nicely. He kept his shoes beside the bed, the cheap springs groaning when he shifted to the edge. Diego laced them up tightly while wedging the receiver between his ear and shoulder. 

"Intersection of Park and Third. I-I think I'm being robbed? Come quickly, _please_. House 2105." 

"I'll be over soon. Are you somewhere safe?" He answered, the tone he used was one he'd practiced for years without that specific intent. Diego spoke calmly, but assertive. Sure of what he was saying. Prepared. Diego paced around, until he realized that he was wrapping the cord of the phone around his torso. 

"Yes, I think?"

"Lay low. If they find you, do what they say." He had to hang up, since he couldn't bring the call with him. 

"Okay. Hurry Di," was all she said. Diego froze, not out of lethargy but recognition. It was Eudora, there was no mistaking it.

"Eudora?" He asked dumbly. Although he'd gotten moving, that didn't make his mind any quicker. She hung up without an answer. He was shocked for a moment, not knowing what to make of that, if he'd been wrong about it. That certainly wasn't Eudora's address, at least not as far as he knew. The moment Diego came back to his senses with a further heightened desire to keep going, was the moment he swiped his knives up, slipping the harness around himself easily. Diego sharpened his knives routinely on a schedule, always keeping them sheathed by his nightstand. It was efficient, and the familiarity brought him a sense of comfort at night. Diego had never been too big on pajamas, they made extra work on late night calls, so he was already dressed. Throwing on a heavy coat and slipping out of his makeshift home, the boiler room, Diego ran out of the long boxing space. He hailed a cab, which although not ideal, was never hard to come by.

"Take me to Park and Third," he instructed, not leaning back in his seat and instead watching out of the window --if not for the urgency, there was no way he would've remembered the address he'd been told after just waking up. A hand traced slowly over the strap of his harness, as if to be sure his knives were still with him. The city began to smear as the car rolled back into a start. "And make it quick," he added, to which the driver scoffed.

"Isn't it a little early for a Halloween party?" The driver asked after a moment. Diego was not amused, but he ignored it. Just another reason as to why he was saving up for a proper motorcycle. The drive was taking longer than he'd readily admit in a retelling. Diego had been on edge the whole time. He couldn't stop thinking about Eudora, wishing she didn't live so far away. He went where he always did when things went ugly --tried to think of what he could've done better. Diego felt as if he should've been closer, but he pushed that away. She wasn't dead yet, as far as he knew nobody was.

\------*´｡*ﾟ

Diego got out early, handing over the fare and then some before breaking into a sprint, cutting through between two buildings to get there faster. No red and blue flashing lights, _yet_ , but he couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Locating the house, tall and bricked, he knocked quickly before trying the handle. It gave, and he practically flung the door open, drawing a knife as he rushed inside. Diego had only just begun to scan the room --an empty kitchen lit with florescent lights, a threadbare couch--, before a shadow came up from his right, from behind the door. The barrel of a gun pressed against his temple, and though Diego's hand was closed around the handle of a knife, he didn't have nearly the time to think about throwing it. A second figure came up from behind the couch, no dealt having been knelt behind it. Waiting. This changed things dramatically. Diego looked between the two of them. The room was pretty poorly lit, even in the kitchen. It wasn't easy to make out their faces, though they both had masculine builds. Their clothing, like Diego's, was black. Probably motivated by some of the same reasons as why Diego chose to dress in that shade. 

"We thought you'd be coming." _Yeah, no shit._

"Where's Eudora?" Diego asked, fighting to keep his voice even, unafraid. One of the men laughed. 

"Fine. Upstairs. Drop the knife." Diego looked between the two, trying to figure out what to do. He'd taken on multiple people at once, easily. The problem was, they had a head start --the gun to his temple. It didn't matter. He took a breath, pivoting his head away from the barrel of the gun and driving his knife straight into the nearer man's rib cage. He stabbed cleanly instead of throwing, for the ease of the close quarters, but drew the knife away just as quickly as he'd sunk it, ducking to avoid the gun trained on him, and flicking it across the room. A shower of machine gun bullets pinned the wall a few feet above him, but just as soon, the knife landed true, piercing into the second man's chest and stopping the firing. Something else tore his attention away from watching the follow through, namely the bullet fired into his shoulder. Diego noticed three things, right around the very same finite moment in time. Firstly, he'd been shot with a glock, which was a mild comfort in opposition to the other man's machine gun. Secondly, the machine gun, still trained on him, hadn't been shooting to kill him --it had _only_ ever been shooting around him, even accounting for the duck. And finally, brought a hand instinctively over the entry hole, he realized he was lucky. That was a funny thing to think right after being shot, wasn't it? The pain hadn't fully hit him, but he was right --no bone had been shattered. Diego brought a knee up, shoving the man that had shot him against his already injured rib cage and trying to buy himself some leverage. The man stumbled back, and Diego followed, shoving his elbow up into the man's jaw, which caused his head to roll back sharply. He grabbed the man's wrist in an instant, twisting it away and wrenching the gun out. He shot his attacker in the thigh, not as comfortable with a gun because it didn't feel like an extension of himself. All the same, the man crumbled, both out of pain and realization of futility. The man's hands wrapped around the entry hole, it was hard to see the way the blood spread over the dark fabric, but he watched it begin to begin to drip in between fingers as he clutched agonizingly at the wound. The noise of a creaking floorboard diverted his attention, he looked up to see a group of at least five men and Eudora. Every gun was trained on him, except for one, pressed to her skull as she stood by, watching. He couldn't take all of them, not like this. Her expression pleaded with him, but somehow it was easier to watch her than the menacing faces. Diego knew he should've tried to commit the men all to memory, so that once he ran he could get backup --yes, that was how he would describe it to himself, getting backup and not 'filing a police report'. But truthfully, he didn't know if he'd be able to run, and the cost of running without Eudora was one he didn't want to think about.

"Put down the weapons, Hargreeves," a man ordered in a gravelly voice. He was the oldest in the room, with a few strands of gray hair. 

"Do what he says," Eudora urged desperately, making Diego shiver. "You told me to do what they said. Now it's your turn," she added, before he could even attempt to resist the order. She knew him far too well, knew that he was too impulsive for his good sometimes, biting off more than he could chew and saving the consequences for later. He'd gone against her wishes before, it had become kind of a trademark of their usual communication. But he knew deep down that she was right about him doing what they said, and more importantly they could shoot her whenever they wanted. Diego nodded slowly, crouching down to lay it on the floor. He'd never liked firearms anyways. 

"I said, put down the _weapons_ ," the man repeated. Diego drew out each knife one by one, dropping them into the floor, each time glancing up to see if any of the guns trained into him let up. They did not. With each knife, he felt as if he was giving a piece of himself away, waning down into less and less of the persona he projected. And when he straightened, looking up at the attackers, he was no more than a grown man in a mask. He felt his heart rising in his throat, and though his shoulder bled it was hard to notice the injury. Diego knew he was outnumbered, he knew it, and had to keep reminding himself of that, otherwise he'd surely run to the man holding Eudora and clobber him. "The game of cat and mouse ends here." The eldest man tucked his gun into a holster. One of the lackeys remained right next to Eudora, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist to hold her there and so she couldn't squirm away from the gun against her skull. The other two got down the last few steps in sync, approaching Diego cautiously. The heavy steps of their boots made the knives on the floor rattle slightly, when they got within a few feet of Diego. "I'm sure you're looking for a bit of context…" the old man started. Diego glared at him, with the man looking only a touch surprised to witness that. "We could have killed you if we'd wanted to," it was obvious, considering the two entirely able men that had moved to either side of him. As if taking that line as a prompt, the men took Diego's wrists, forcing them behind his back --two hands wrapped tightly on either bicep. "But instead you hurt some of my own," there was no remorse in that voice. The two men Diego had fought laid off to the side, not dead as far as Diego knew, but not up and kicking either. He didn't really care.

"You're not scrambling to call for a medic," Diego replied emptily, deadpanning.

"Aren't you charming. But I get it, and we're not so different. We want to make our impact on the world."

"I'm _not_ like you," Diego retorted.

"You don't even know who I am," the man laughed. He had nothing to say to that, it was true. But he also could still be pretty sure he didn't want to be the type of guy running a little gang. "Well, names aren't important. Her's hardly is," the leader looked over at Eudora, seeming unphased by her frightened expression, the way her pretty brown hair was unusually matted. "You've been getting in my way. It's time for that to stop." The man took a few steps closer, watching Diego, looking almost curious. "And no, before you ask, it's nothing important. You were just poking around a little too much, but never on the cusp of some grand finding. I consider it a favor for some of my colleagues, as well --though _she_ is more so, this is a two birds with one stone situation." The man just had to rub it in that whatever he was doing, Diego hadn't been even about to expose. He would've rather just been shot in the head and died unaware of the fact. "Then there's your little detective friend. Well, we knew she would've gone looking for you, and if we weren't careful, she might've actually been smart enough to piece something together. Naturally, you're always alone, we could've gotten to you whenever we liked. We waited for her instead." Diego bit back a retort, hoping that Eudora knew something he didn't, and that letting the man keep going might reveal a clue. It was also an excuse that let him avoid speaking out loud. But, time was running out, and the man did something surprising. He backed away from Diego, giving the nod to the younger man holding Eudora. At once, the young man let go, the leader moving to step directly behind her, wrapping a hand around her throat and giving her only the slightest second before his gun was pointed on her. The man spoke to Eudora, but Diego could hear it faintly, "here's what we're going to do. I'm going to let you have a gun, and you have to decide whether you want to die first, or your boyfriend does." Eudora didn't correct the leader on their relationship status, which made Diego smile a little. Even though everyone in the room still conscious could guess that Eudora would be too afraid to bother with titles --likely looking as stricken as he was sure he did--, but Diego tried to let that go. He'd focus on that tiny thing, and wanted to show that he was okay, giving Eudora his best cocky grin. _Your boyfriend._ It was some little assurance that everything was going to be okay, he was going to be okay. 

The younger man that had been holding Eudora gave her his gun, but not before emptying it until all but two bullets had fallen. Tears pooled up in Eudora's eyes. When she didn't take it immediately, the elder's hand flexed. Diego could tell from the way his fingertips were light, but thumb and forefinger comparatively tight against her neck, that he was right against her airpipe. "Don't be difficult. As a detective, I'm sure you overthink these things, but there _is_ no right answer." Eudora took the gun, which appeared to somewhat ease the hold the man had around her neck. It shook in her hands, something Diego had not once seen on the shooting range, even when they'd both been shiny and new to the program. She'd always been precise, even if not nearly so much as Diego. It was one of the few spots in training he'd consistently had her beat. Diego met Eudora's eyes, which were finally staring at him, instead of the spot of the wall near him, or the floor, or the men restraining him. He took a deep breath, not knowing what she'd choose to do. The powerlessness stung, but he couldn't bring himself to try and figure out what she'd do. Diego knew he'd rather be shot than watch her die, but it also wasn't right to urge her to kill him, to watch him die. Tears began to fall down her cheeks. Her hands were too busy wrapped tightly around the handgun in the diagram-perfect placement, to swipe them away. He'd seen Eudora cry twice before.

_Her hands were raked through her scalp, the bun in her hair having come undone to reveal a loose ponytail. She looked terrible, in a far corner of one of the study areas, a book in her lap. She'd been considerate, sniffling as quietly as she could and wiping off tears with the back of her hand so they wouldn't wet the pages of the book she hunched over. Two weeks into the police academy, and Eudora had faced a crushing score on her first exam._

_"I think you should go," she said, standing at her front door instead of letting him in. "I can't keep doing this, I can't keep," her face scrunched up, as she for once struggled with her words. "I can't keep running around with you all over the city and playing into your bullshit!" As angry as she was, she softened just as quickly, her shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, Di. I can't throw away my life, my work, for you. Prosecutorial misconduct is serious. We shouldn't be together at all."_

Her expression was contorted, twisted up by stress and fear and Diego wanted nothing more than to tear free and hold her. But he'd never been able to make the problems that plagued her relent, as much as he would've wanted. Eudora tried to stifle herself, but a cry broke from her lips. 

Diego tried to smile, "hey Dora, I always kn-... always kn-knew this would k-ki--" she squeezed the trigger, and the world felt like it had moved to just a crawl. Diego could practically sense the bullet, heavy in the air. It felt like a 9 mm, but he knew that only because he'd held casings before. His hands flexed behind his back, but it felt more natural than the kind of fidgeting expected from stress, as natural as breathing in and out. The bullet stopped, a centimeter or so from his cheekbone --her aim must've been off--, before clanking down onto the ground in front of him. The fired bullet fell onto the toe of his own boot, rolling off of it. Diego blinked, looking from the gun, to Eudora, to the leader. Sirens began to bleed in, the arrival having been muted out significantly by the old brick house. They had to be close. Eudora jerked up suddenly, kicking the leader back against his shin, using the man's own hold against her throat as temporary leverage, before turning away and ripping his weakened grip. She shot him point blank in the head. And then everything happened at once. Eudora dropped to the floor as gunfire rang out in her direction, tossing the emptied gun. The men had let go of Diego, which he used to his advantage, striking one against the back of their head and punching one on the face as they both turned their attention back to him. Diego stalled, kicking and punching as best as he could. Eudora had managed to get herself behind the couch for cover, not too far from the machine gun wielding man Diego had fought with, his body crumpled against the wall and the knife still embedded. A strike against the side of the head sent him down, not unlike some of his previous boxing matches. Diego collapsed onto the floor, but was sure he'd put up a good fight. The room was spinning and his body felt thick and heavy, but he thought he saw red and blue lights catch in through the window of the kitchen, stretching across the ceiling.


End file.
